Outercepted
"Hello?"
"Hi Rachel."
"What do you want?"
"Would you bring me up a bottle of water?" The air in my room is so delightfully cold, I am breathing steam.
"Are you serious?
"I haven't been home for six months," I explain into the phone through the hole in the blankets I am getting oxygen through. "My bed feels like a warm marshmallow."
"You are serious. You just can't come downstairs?"
"I'll let you sleep with me."
"Gina would skin you alive for even saying that."
"I'll let her sleep with me instead."
Suddenly, I hear two loud knocks. My bedroom door opens a few inches and then slams, but there is a bottle of cold water on the floor.
It glitters and sweats in the light from the crack under the door.
Fifteen feet away.
I curse at merciless God, "So am I Job now?"
… and then I remember the drone remote control is on the nightstand.
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